


a trophy father's trophy son.

by turbohell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas has an incredibly fucked up dream, Castiel is Not Okay (Supernatural), Dean Winchester is somewhat evil, I don't really know that this is how The Empty works, If you don't like creative license then this perhaps isn't the story for you, M/M, Post-15x18, This is not a healing fic, You will be worse off having read this i promise you, also, but I simply do not care, castiel is a father figure, hell is hot but the empty is hotter, idk how to tag, implication of death, possibly out of character sorry, this is my first supernatural fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turbohell/pseuds/turbohell
Summary: Eternal damnation is an interesting idea, Castiel has often thought, what could a person possibly do to truly deserve constant suffering for the rest of eternity?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	a trophy father's trophy son.

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO  
> this is my first fic for the spn fandom :D  
> also i didn't do a single shred of research for this fic. i don't know how the empty works and at this point im too afraid to ask.  
> please note that this fic is completely at the liberty of artistic license. i do not claim to understand the complexity of the characters or the plot of this damn show.  
> im a simple idiot. i wanted to write something bittersweet.
> 
> enjoy!

It’s hard for Castiel to truly articulate what Dean ~~meant~~ _means_ to him. It’s hard for Castiel to truly admit that what he ~~felt~~ _feels_ for Dean is ultimately what lead him to where he is now, standing on the edge of a proverbial cliff, with a one-way ticket to eternal damnation. 

Eternal damnation is an interesting idea, Castiel has often thought, what could a person possibly do to truly deserve constant suffering for the rest of eternity? It is often that this train of thought leads him to remember that he, personally, invented the tangible concept of free will in order to spite his overbearing father. 

_Yeah,_ perhaps he does _kiiiinda_ deserve to be thrown into the metaphorical Devil’s cage.

He finds himself standing, he cannot place when it happened, but the proverbial cliff he’d been imagining somehow materialised before him, his feet are half hanging over the edge – the pit below is blisteringly hot, fire raging around the perimeter, pitch black and smouldering in the centre. 

Oh, so this is what it feels like, Castiel thinks, this is how it feels to be truly powerless. 

Just moments ago, when he had faced Dean, looked him in the eye and told him that he loves him. He felt like the most powerful being in existence, powerful enough to destroy and create universes with a single thought, powerful enough to alter realities, cause stars and moons to implode. Castiel felt like a King, he felt like The King. 

But not anymore, not as he investigates the face of his oncoming doom, the doom that he is bound to face alone. Alone in the dark for the rest of his existence. 

His thought was soon replaced, because frankly, there was no greater cause than to sacrifice himself to allow Dean to experience what it _truly_ feels like to be free. 

“Do it.” A gruff voice speaks from behind him, the voice is familiar – so familiar that it causes Cas to take a step back, onto firmer ground. 

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice croaks, he thinks he must sound like he has been crying, and certainly he has, 

“You’ve nowhere else to go, Cas.” Dean’s voice says as Castiel turns, his eyes falling onto the man before him, 

“How thoughtful.” Castiel ponders, his voice low enough that he assumes Dean will not hear,

“What was that?” He replies, 

“You’re dressed for the occasion.”

“You noticed?” Dean says, smiling, a hint of menace behind his shining eyes, “Sweet little Cas, you really do love me, don’t you?”

“Incredibly brave of you to assume I would forget how you looked on the day that you plunged a sharp instrument into my chest, Dean.” Castiel replies, his eyes filling with tears, threatening to fall and expose his fear, “You look so young, Dean. Just how you looked when I rebuilt you.”

Castiel soon found his eyes dry, as he watched Dean looking at his own wrist, as if he were examining a watch, “Enough of the small talk, Dr. Frankenstein.” Dean says, “Get in the pit.”

Of course, Castiel knew from the second he heard Dean’s voice that he couldn’t be real. He would never be real again. 

He supposes that this must be the first punishment, to watch as the person who changed him, the only human he would ever, and has ever loved tells him to jump – forces him over the edge into the darkest recess of the universe. Forever.

Yeah, he supposes that it only makes sense that this would happen.

“Oh, and before you go, Cas.” Dean says, as Castiel turns back toward the cliff’s edge,

“What is it?” Castiel replies, his nose being bitten by the stench of the pit below, 

Castiel could feel the footsteps coming closer, the step of Dean’s boots imprinting on the soft ground, the breath on his neck as his friend stops walking – his hands falling on the Angel’s shoulders, 

**_“I could never love you.”_**

And then he was falling, the darkness tumbling toward him at an unnatural pace. Then it was black.

All of it. Dark. 

Castiel could feel it, the sleep – the eternal sleep that all angels were promised. They worked hard, God had said, it is the least you deserve for your devotion. 

Sleep. 

It might as well be a fiery pit of damnation. He thought that must be why something is keeping him awake, making him live his final nightmare. 

In that case, it was rather his own fault. 

The worst thing that Castiel can imagine, falling asleep and not knowing where Dean was, if he was safe. 

And that is what they gave him. He exchanged his ability to keep Dean safe, to keep Dean safe. 

The irony of it all was outstanding really.

His eyes were being weighed on by sleep, and just as he was about to allow himself to be taken by The Empty for good, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a familiar burn against his closed eyelids. 

A barely audible shout above the rumble of eternity in his ears, 

  
_“Hey Dad.”_

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this fic, or want to encourage me to write more, i have a tumblr:  
> turboheller.tumblr.com ! please visit my ask box + tell me your thoughts:D  
> (you can also leave a comment here if you'd like! i would appreciate that v much)


End file.
